


Fall of the Inspector

by Flamebreaker



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Character Development, F/M, Javert's Suicide, Major Original Character(s), Nephilim, Original Character Death(s), Romance, Romani Character, change of heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:32:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 18,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebreaker/pseuds/Flamebreaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So... I took Javert's quote "I was born with scum like you; I am from the gutter, too", and ran with it, and this is the result - Javert's backstory, come back to haunt him in the form of his childhood sweetheart, Tsuritsa. He's the narrative voice<br/>I remember reading somewhere that Javert was supposed to be half-Gypsy, so in this story, his father is a thief and his mother is a Roma woman. They met in jail, and Luministo Javert was the result.<br/>'Luminitso' is the Roma version of Lucian, in turn the French version of Lucifer, 'bringer of light'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting My Past

“Inspector! Inspector Javert! We got another one,” a voice yelled down the alley. I turned on my heel to face the prisoner my Lieutenant had gripped by the wrist, and my eyebrow arched without my full consent of its motion, the most shock I was willing to admit to. I recognized the face staring back at me from many years ago. 

It was preposterous. Of all the many places in Paris, of all the cities in France, she was here; she had to be here. I found myself nearly overwhelmed at the unlikeliness of the whole situation. I could not be looking into the eyes of the childhood sweetheart I had not seen for fifteen years. 

“Luminitso?! Luminitso Javert?” the woman – she was so thin; had she always been like that? – looked back at me with much the same shock that I was currently trying to recover from. “Luminitso, please, I didn’t do anything wrong. Please, believe me. Please!”

“Chief?” The men were looking between the two of us cautiously, like they were not sure what to do. I was in much the same position. No, I was not. Just because I used to know her did not mean that I could be lenient. It would just lead to a flood of criminals trying to curry favour with me. Slowly, one of my men continued, “She attacked a man in one of the back alleys. Constable Garcon is taking the man to the local infirmary now.”

“Good.” The girl I had known would not hurt anyone. “Did the victim give a name?”

“Gabriel Beauchene.” 

I gave a start. Surely not… No, this could not happen. That could only be Gunari Beauchene giving a false name. I would have to hunt him down as well. Between this and the revival of the Valjean case, this was not proving to be an amiable week. 

“Take her away,” I snapped, scowling. Thank God my voice did not betray my confusion, that I sounded as fierce as I ever did. “Lock her up with the others.” Not for the first time, I turned my back on those haunting, doe-brown eyes. 

“Luminitso!” I winced as I heard her scream. Her voice was raw with tears; weak girl, stupid girl, always crying. “Luminitso! Luminitso, please! Please, don’t do this! Luminitso, what will Charani think if I do not return? I need to return to her. She’s sick; she’ll die without me to bring her medicines. Please, Luminitso. She’s your sœur! She’s your family! I’m your family! You promised, remember, Luminitso?! You promised I would be!”

I did not rise to the bait. I had promised that a long time ago. Now, I had no family, certainly not that mess of gypsies, whores, and thieves. I was alone, as I very much preferred. My childhood sweetheart appearing as a street whore just proved that I was better off alone. I was better than them. So, she could pay the price. 

As for Charani… She was simply a sacrifice that had to be made. Being dead meant that she would not be imprisoned.

I could still hear Tsuritsa screaming for me.


	2. Night Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter of Javert's stubbornness  
> "Gaol" is the old spelling of "jail". It is pronounced the same.

“I will take the night watch,” I snapped at the fresh-faced Lieutenant who dared to oppose me. He visibly wilted under the force of my anger. Good. “It is my duty, and having arrested a half-mad street rat that happens to know my Christian name will certainly not change that.” 

“But, Chief Inspector…” Would the man not take a hint? “She mentioned you have an sœur who is ill… I would think that… surely….”

“Do I look like a family man to you, Lieutenant?” I barked at the young man, “The whore is mistaken. Now, if you ever bring up my -” I wrinkled my nose and spat the word, “- family or my past again, you will find yourself without a job. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” he bowed meekly. It was the most intelligence he had shown in a long time. 

Pulling my greatcoat tighter around myself, I stormed out of the room, steeling myself for the beginning of my shift. I could hear the men talking behind my back, gossiping like washerwomen about what could get the bloody-mad Inspector’s goat so thoroughly, about what mysterious past he hid and who this gypsy girl must be. They could guess all they wanted. I was a private man, and fleeting camaraderie was not worth giving that up. I did not care much for the more junior Officers, almost as little as I cared for the inmates of the bloody gaol. 

I would not admit to anyone how hard it would be to ignore her.


	3. A Brief - and Unpleasant - Catch-Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mullo-moroi are vampires of Romani myth  
> I have always imagined Javert as slightly darker-skinned than the average Parisian, with hair so dark it is almost black, and piercingly-green eyes.

I could hear the woman – that was a safe way of referring to her – crying as I walked through the door, amid the usual cat-calls of “Good evening, dear Inspector!” I knew that the tears were hers, as hard as I pushed down the memories of holding her as she cried, many, many years ago. I wondered briefly, irrelevantly, how many nights she had cried after I had left, and who had held her without me there to do so. 

No, that was dangerous. She was just a gamine, no different to any other I had arrested.

I paced up and down, banging my truncheon against the bars of the cells when prisoners got too rowdy, occasionally yelling at them to scare them into submission. I would have none of their antics tonight. I would never admit it, hated having to even think it, but my temper was strung on the edge, all because I could feel her eyes boring into my back, and I knew she saw me as a monster. I had never cared what people thought of me. I knew they all thought I was a foul-tempered man, cold and merciless, one to be avoided. I was, and that was the way I much preferred it. I should not care that she thought the same. 

“C’mon, Inspector,” a woman yelled, one of the old whores grey with illness, “Vhy ya so touchy? Vee all know your pious hide is wantin’ va new gal! She’s your ol’ lady-love, innit she? Makes sense, it does. You dark like a Roma, Inspector, dark like ‘er, ‘n’ dark like uz. You was like ‘er, weren’t you? You vas like uz!”

I beat the old whore without remorse. I could feel Tsuritsa behind me, could sense her fear as I struck the old woman, but I did not dare let down my attack until the woman had blood dripping down her chin and her eye was swollen. She would not bother me again tonight. None of them would. 

None, except her. 

Still, the woman cried, until finally I had no choice but to go up to the bars and rattle them roughly. The other prisoners got cranky if they did not get enough sleep.

“Shut up,” I snapped, not looking her in the eye, “You are disturbing the peace.”

“Luminitso,” her whisper was hoarse, “Please, just look at me once.”

“That is no longer my name, Woman. My name is Lucian,” I snapped at her. 

“Lucian, then,” she whispered, “Please, just look at me, just once, Lucian.” 

I did as she said. I could not tell you why; I take orders from no one save the Chief of Police. I suppose it was her willingness to call me by a name she didn’t know me by, just because it was the name I took. 

She cowered before me, curling into a tiny ball in the back of the cell with the moth-eaten regulation blanket wrapped around her skinny shoulders. No, she had not been quite that thin when I knew her; close, but not quite. She looked very ill now, dark circles ringing her darker eyes as she met my gaze, her tongue flicking out to wet lips dry and cracked with fever, her hands trembling as bony knuckles clutched the blanket. 

“Do you really not remember, Luminitso?” she started, and I immediately rued my decision to listen to her. 

“I just told you that that is no longer my name!”

“Lucian! I’m sorry!” The woman cowered again, “Do you not remember playing in the forest as children, with Charani? Do you not remember telling us stories around the fire at night, trying to spook us, and then holding us both and calming us when we came to you with bad dreams, promising it was all a story and you wouldn’t let mullo-moroi get us? Do you not remember any of that, Lumin… Lucian? Do you not remember how much Charani and I loved you?”

“No, Girl, I do not.” 

I turned to leave, all too aware of the gazes of the other inmates upon us both, knowing that the power of the Law would for the first time fail me if these sharks caught a scent of weakness in me, but a grip on my arm stopped my motion. She had crossed the cell to grab me. 

I shook her off immediately, scowling. My scowl could make grown men stand down, but like the Lieutenant before, she seemed unable to take a hint. Though she cowered like a dog, she did not let me go. Damned girl. 

“Now, if you do not mind, I have work to do, proper work, unlike what you whores call an occupation. So, I bid thee good night.” 

I saw her flinch when I called her a whore. It was cold, yes, but I am a cold man. I saw her open her mouth to speak again, and, unwilling to listen to her ridiculous questions and pleas for mercy, I tugged on the collar of my coat to straighten it, and started off down the corridor without a word, leaving her weeping by the bars. 

I did not converse with her, nor any other inmate, for the rest of the night.


	4. Hell Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not resist the reference to Victor Hugo's other great fictional masterpiece, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Day by day, I felt her eyes on me, and I felt my resolve weaken. Day by day, more memories came to my mind, unbidden, times in the woods of wild France, with Beauchene, with Charani and Tsuritsa, times of my childhood. Night by night, I knelt and prayed, begging for guidance, for deliverance from sin, from temptation. Night after night, I repeated,

“Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti. Beatae Mariae semper Virgini. Beato Michaeli archangel. Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis. 

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man, and of my virtue I am justly proud. Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd. 

Quia peccavi nimis. 

Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there, why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? I feel her, I see her… The sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control!

Verbo et opera…

Like fire, Hellfire, this fire in my skin, this burning desire is turning me to sin!

It's not my fault. I'm not to blame. It is the gypsy girl, the witch who sent this flame. It's not my fault if, in God's plan, He made the Devil so much stronger than a man!

Protect me, Maria. Don't let this siren cast her spell; don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone. Destroy this temptation; don’t let me taste the fires of hell, or else let her be mine and mine alone. 

Hellfire… Dark fire…. 

Kyrie Eleison/ God have mercy on her/ Kyrie Eleison/ God have mercy on me/ Kyrie Eleison….”


	5. The Letter

The next fortnight was Hell on Earth, always hearing the girl crying, and simply not knowing what to do.

 

After that fortnight, I came back to my Office one afternoon to see a piece of paper sticking out of my jacket pocket, one that I knew I had not put there myself. Curious, I took the page and unfolded it, flattening it out on my desk.

 

It was a letter, reading:

_To my dear Luminitso,_

_I do not know quite what to write, or how to word it, but I simply know I must write to you. There are so many questions and answers that chase themselves around my mind without stop._

_It has been fifteen years, Luminitso, fifteen years since you walked out on Beauchene, and you never told me why. You never told Kapo or Charani. No one knew what had happened, or why you left, and it broke me._

_You have no idea of the Hell that Beauchene became after you left us. Kapo ordered me to marry Gunari. I would rather have died. Something happened after you left, that I would rather not speak about, but I knew I could not stay, and it was not safe for Charani, either. That was when we ran away, and why you found me in Paris. I suppose we did the same thing you did, and perhaps for the same reason, or nearly the same reason. I wished to get as far away from my memories as possible. They hurt me too much._

_But, for all this, I suppose my question is how. How did you end up like this, Luminitso? I do not know you anymore. I do not know this shadow, this mullo-moroi that haunts the halls, that shows no pity, that beats the innocent for any indiscretion. Do you not remember Ana? You were so angry after her death. How could you go on to become the same kind of monster that killed her?_

_I don_ _’_ _t know you anymore, Luminitso, and that thought hurts me far more than any of my memories._

_My Love Forever,_

_Tsuritsa_

 

I read the letter through twice, and then growled, crumpling the parchment in my fist, tempted to throw it into the fire. Damn the weakness I felt! Damn the indecision!

 

Yes, I remembered Ana. Yes, I remembered the policemen that had beaten her to death. I remembered it well. I had been the one that had found her dead in an alleyway, the dark shadow of the policeman stalking away. I remembered how his brass buttons had gleamed, how straight his back was, and how tall and intimidating he looked. I had been fourteen then, a stick of a boy, nothing like the Officer.

 

At the time, I had thought it vile, an act that needed revenge for the life of the innocent girl, my friend, Ana. But, that was before I knew what monsters we were. Gypsies were all liars and thieves and whores, like the woman that had called herself my mother. Gypsies saw themselves as something mythical, something special, something beyond the power of the law. They stole their way through life with no remorse or thought of their wrongdoing.

 

Just like I had stolen this job from some good, pious man who deserved it more than I ever would, because of the darkness of my skin and soul both.

 

Just like I had stolen the soul of the policeman who saved me from the streets.

 

Damn Tsuritsa! Damn myself for caring! Damn my guilt for leaving her to Gunari, and damn my guilt for arresting her for attacking him. He was a monster. For the girl I had known to attack him, he must have done something heinous enough to deserve it. I should have arrested _him_ , not her. But, she had still committed a crime. How did I know she hadn’t become a whore? How did I know that she was not lying to me? Gunari had run, leaving the hospital before my men could find him.

 

In a moment of shameless lack of control, I lashed out, pounding my fist against the wall with a cry, feeling the throbbing in my knuckles, not enough to soothe the pain in my head.

 

I wondered what Hell she spoke of in her letter, what that monster had done to her that made her run away from the only home she had ever known.

 

I thought about Charani, my sister. I had grieved for her far more than I had thought I would, when I left. I had thought of her all the time in those first few years away from Beauchene. Tsuritsa had spoken of her… when I arrested her. She had said my sœur was sick, dying….

 

Oh, damn it all! I did not care. I could not care.

 

Settling myself at my desk and shoving the letter out of sight, I endeavoured to repeat that until I believed it.

 


	6. Night Terrors

The woman often had night terrors. Often, she would awake screaming in the middle of the night, waking the other inmates, rousing whoever guard was around to see what the trouble was. I was usually on night watch, and would see the other gamines wake her through the bars of her cell, trying to offer what comfort they could. 

She never accepted it. She would merely hide away at the back of her cell, hunched against the wall, shivering, looking up at me through the bars with those haunting eyes. She slept very little, for nearly every time she closed her eyes, she would wake to screaming night terrors of Gunari or my sister. 

One night, the woman woke crying my name. I had just walked through the door at the far end of the corridor, and had startled to hear my name – my true name, my Roma name – screamed down the passageway. Running toward the sound by pure instinct, I had found the woman curled on the grimy floor, writhing like a demon, lashing out at some evil she could only see in her sleep. The other women were trying to wake her, but to no avail.

Again, among the screams, I heard my name… and the nickname by which she would refer to me when we were young. 

“Luminitso! No… Lumi, no… no… NO!” 

“Girl!” I called, “Girl, by the Stars, wake up! You are dreaming!” There was no response from the dreaming woman. Finally, out of sheer desperation, I reached down and shook her shoulder through the bars, shouting, “Tsuritsa, wake up! Tsuritsa!!!” 

With a final cry, the woman jerked upright, recoiling from my touch and hiding away in the shadows under her bunk. She was distraught, unable to be soothed in the slightest. I left her to the other women and went back to the Office, where I sat with my head in my hands, shaking. When I had finally composed myself slightly, I went to the window, and looked up at the stars. They had always helped me. I knew my place, as they knew theirs. 

I should not feel such protectiveness. 

I should not feel such worry. 

I was a man of the Law. I felt nothing but contempt and hatred. The screams of a gamine were of no concern to me.

Her letter…. What Hell did she see when she closed her eyes? 

And, by the Devil, why did I still care?


	7. Conversation

I called for the guards to bring the woman to my office later that week, just to tell her that she was not to treat me as though she knew me, she was not refer to me by Christian name, and that she was a prisoner. I would not take back my morals just because I used to know her. 

The slip of a woman stood by the doorway. I could smell her fear and unease as I beckoned her in from my desk. She looked even sicker than when I had seen her in the cells. 

“Luminitso.” She sat before my desk, folding her hands in her lap, small blackbirds nesting and fluttering amid the ragged, brown cloth. The chains of her ‘cuffs clacked. 

“Tsuritsa.” I had to stop myself from calling her by the pet name I used to refer to her by.

“So,” When she looked up at me, her dark eyes were cold, “You will call me by my Christian name only when we are alone, lest your precious reputation as a monster be sullied?” I was taken aback at venom she spat the words with. 

Before I could speak, she continued, 

“I know you remember, Luminitso! I care about you; I always have. There has been not a day that has gone by when I have not thought of what my life should have turned out like! You promised me, when we were old enough, you would ask for my hand, but you left before that. You broke your promise and you broke me, Luminitso!”

Clenching my jaw as I listened to her, I discovered I was too tired to silence her. 

“And, now, to have found you again, to have you so close, so damned close… but, it is not you. I do not know the beast that beat that woman last week. I do not know the shadow that looms down the corridor like a mullo-moroi, and you do not even care anymore… if you ever did….”

Suddenly, she fell silent, ducking her head, cowering, and I realized with a pang that she expected me to beat her for talking out of turn, like I had with the old whore before. She expected me to hurt her. 

When I swallowed, my throat felt tight, and it took me a few seconds to realize that I could actually still feel sadness. I had not felt anything but anger and boredom for years. Now, I yearned for the past, when it would have been acceptable to cradle that frail, little body against my own. She looked so cold, and so sad. Years ago, all it would take was a smile from me before she would cheer up again. 

No, to feel such things – to remember such things – I could not afford to do. Arresting Tsuritsa was not a mistake, for she proved to me why I had left. I had broken free from the mould that the world had put the gypsies in. I was successful, a Chief of Police, and showing mercy on some little gypsy would put my credibility in serious question. 

A frustrated growl crawled from my throat when I found I could not simply ignore the girl, because of my ties with her, and Tsuritsa squeaked in fear, curling deeper against the back of the couch like she wished it to consume her. 

I wanted her out of my office – out of this gaol – for good. 

There was one thing I had to ask of her first. 

“Tsuritsa, you mentioned that Charani was sick.”

“Consumption. Final stages,” she informed me quietly, looking at her metal-bound hands again, “She will be dead by now.”

“Ah.” So, my little sœur was dead. I sat still for a few moments, and allowed my mind time to accept that thought. I could feel my subconscious rejecting the words, refusing to let them settle, but I forced them down, like the bitter, herbal medicines we used to take as children. 

“I am sick, too.” Tsuritsa’s soft voice called me back from my mind. “I contracted the illness caring for Charani. I will most likely be dead within a fortnight. And, you will not have to worry about controlling all the prisoners in the cells. It will not be long before the disease spreads.” 

With that, I nodded to the door. 

“You best clear out of here, then,” I told her, trying to keep my voice at its usual harshness, “I have important visitors in here, and cannot afford anything contaminated.” 

The look Tsuritsa sent me was murderous.


	8. Charani

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi-graphic depictions of death

Still not sure what the Devil I was thinking, I snuck out of my office late that night, a piece of paper with an address stuffed deep in my pocket. Beggars scuttled out of my way like roaches as I swept down the midnight streets of Paris, until I found myself in the worst part of town. 

The smell of refuse and waste and decay hit me in the face, and I gagged. The door I approached hardly stayed on its hinges when I pushed it open. The floor was stained, the steps to the upper floor looking so rickety I was almost afraid to attempt to go up them. 

This was the sort of filth Tsuritsa and Charani lived in? Places like this were an abomination. 

As soon as I stepped inside the entrance hall, an elderly lady hobbled out of a door to my right. Her eyes were dark brown, cloudy with age, but still sharp as daggers. 

“I am…”

“I know who you are, Inspector. What are you doing here?” 

“A woman, a Roma, died here about a week ago.” I stood to my full height, hoping to frighten that sceptical look from her face. “I need the body as evidence in trial.” 

The old woman narrowed her eyes. 

“You will find her upstairs, in the room on the left at the end of the corridor.” 

“Thank you.” 

The stench of death and decay got stronger as I walked down the hall, and I fought down the bitter bile rising in my throat. Finally, I found the door, pushed it open, and found the source of the smell. 

Charani – no, Charani’s body, for her soul was no longer there – lay on one of the two small beds in the room. She had been dead for some time, her body half-rotted, what was left of her tanned skin nearly grey, the bone showing below it yellowed and pitted, marked by rats’ teeth. Black, empty eye sockets stared back at me as I approached her. Her dark hair hung in lank clumps around her emaciated face. 

I would not have recognized her if I had not known the exact place she had died. 

Oh, Charani. Oh, my poor Charani. Despite the damage and the death, I had to stop myself reaching out and stroking her hair, like I used to when she was hurt. I tried to convince myself that the tears in my eyes were caused by the sickening smell of death, and not by the fact that dead girl was my sister. 

Slowly, I pulled the plastic tarpaulin from the pocket of my coat and laid the body on it, before lifting the shrouded body in my arms and carrying it down the stairs, back through the streets, and to the copse of trees by the Office, where I buried her in the dead of night, the sweat on my brow not penance enough for how badly I had failed her.


	9. Grieving Garden

I called again for the guards to bring Tsuritsa to my office three days later. Again, the little form appeared, like a ghost, at my door. I beckoned her in, and shut the door behind her. I felt her stiffen, and she drew away from me, though she moved not a step. 

“Listen to me, and listen well, Tsuritsa,” I told her tersely. I still could not quite believe I was doing this. “The guards have probably told you as I told them, that you are here for talking out of turn, and I called you to punish you. Correct?”

She nodded, her dark, rose-petal face swaying on the thin stalk of her neck. She was trembling, and her doe eyes were wide and scared; she looked at me like I would hurt her. I tried to push down my guilt. I continued,

“That is what people must think, and if anyone asks, what you must tell them. In actuality, you will come with me. I have something to show you. Out of convincingness, you will keep the cuffs.” I motioned to the thick binds of metal around her skinny wrists. 

Without another word, and without waiting for her reply, I marched out. The sound of bare footfalls told me she was following. 

I led Tsuritsa downstairs, past the interrogation rooms where we were supposed to be going, and out into the garden at the back of the police offices. There, a small copse of trees hid the simple, unmarked grave. When we were there, I unclasped Tsuritsa’s handcuffs. There was no need for pretences now. 

She looked petrified. 

“I found your address in the case file on your arrest,” I told her, “and returned there the night after I spoke with you last. Charani is buried here. I knew you would not like the thought of her in a mass grave.”

As soon as I mentioned my sœur’s name, Tsuritsa gave a cry, kneeling by the foot of the grave, her narrow shoulders shaking. Unsure of what else to do, I knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched under my touch. 

As the eldest child, and a reckless boy, I had thought that it would be my sister and my sweetheart mourning my death first. I had never thought that I would have to bury my sœur; she was always so strong, always the first to shake off illnesses that went around Beauchene and killed so many others. 

Beauchene. It had been a long time since I had even thought that name. 

“This is all your fault!” Tsuritsa’s words were twisted with angry tears, righteous tears, “If you had not arrested me, I would have been there to look after her! I would have been able to save her. You know Charani, how strong she is! She would have lived.… She would have… she would have….”

With a sob, Tsuritsa threw herself against my chest and cried, pounding her sharp, little fists against my shoulder. Rather awkwardly, I patted her back, unsure, hesitant. I knew she was right. I may not have struck her with my truncheon, or put a bullet in her skull, but my little sœur was as dead as if I had. And, she would have had a much quicker death if I had just killed her myself.

Which was why I had made sure that the same thing would not happen to Tsuritsa. 

Tapping the crying girl’s narrow shoulder, I fished a cotton-wrapped vial out of my breast pocket and placed it in Tsuritsa’s hand, closing her thin fingers around the cold glass. 

“It is medicine, for the consumption,” I told her before she could ask. “I will not see you die, too. Take the dose on the bottle, and do not let anyone know that you have it – I mean, no one, not a soul. I will continue to give you the medicine until you are well; you will need more every three days or so. I long ago got immunity from the disease, so there is no chance of it spreading to me. Also, if you ever wish to visit Charani’s grave, pretend to make a scene or talk back to me, and I will bring you here again.” 

I could not bring myself to apologize for her death, as much as I wanted to. I was not the sort to apologize for anything. I was a cold man, though I felt the death of my sister… more keenly than I had anticipated I would. Finding her body and burying her in the dead of night had shaken me more than I would like to admit. It brought to mind memories that I thought I had forgotten years ago.

“Luminitso….” Tsuritsa’s voice was quiet, nearly reverent. I did not deserve such praise. I was merely making up for doing wrong by her and Charani. “Thank you. Oh, Luminitso….” 

Tsuritsa moved closer, curling into my chest and attempting to embrace me as best as she could, difficult with how much larger than her I was. Startled, it took me a few moments for me to register the feel of her arms around me. I could remember in a rush all the times she had hugged me when we were young, but I had not thought for a moment that she would attempt to console me now when the source of her own grief was so entirely my fault. 

After a time, I gave in, and tentatively circled my arms around the little, frail body as she pressed her head under my chin like she used to as a child, feeling decidedly uneasy and tense about the whole thing as I did so. It did not feel like my place to do this, to embrace another human being so… intimately, but it also would not feel right not to reciprocate. I… she needed the comfort. 

“Barrel-chested lug,” she murmured teasingly as she struggled to reach her tiny arms around the breadth of my torso. It surprised me to be unable to stop the corners of my mouth from twitching up. I could not remember the last time that I had smiled. I thought it might have been not since I left Beauchene. Grieving, in my own quiet way, I stroked her hair and let her rest her head on my chest. 

It surprised me even more to hear her quiet whisper, “You said you are a heartless man, Inspector, but I do not believe it. I can hear your heart, as strong as ever. It is a steady beat, as steady and unwavering as you are, but it is a heartbeat, nonetheless.”

Walking with her back inside, I paused as I secured the handcuffs around her wrists again. But, I did not talk immediately. As I looked at her, trusting eyes sought out mine, and my breath caught a moment. I was suddenly hyperaware of her standing so close to me, hyperaware of her presence. 

At once, she raised her mouth to mine, standing on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss to my lips. It was chaste, light, barely a ghosting of her lips moving across my own, but I felt the touch keenly. It was not lustful; it held far more significance. My lips remained cold and unmoving – I knew not what to do, and I was greatly taken aback – and she drew away, unease in her eyes, as though afraid I would push her away. 

“I will have to… have to hurt you, or else none will believe the story we told the guards,” I whispered, incapable of articulating what I felt about the moment we were bubbled in. Tsuritsa’s eyes went wide, and she backed away from me. “And, once we are back inside, you call me Inspector Javert, or just Inspector, and you do not give any inclination that you know me at all. Treat me as though you hate me. Tell not a soul that I brought you here, and tell not a soul that we were ever friends… or, God forbid, more than that.” 

And, closing my eyes, I hefted the weight of my truncheon and brought it down. Tsuritsa’s body dropped like a marionette with its strings cut. I had not meant to hit her so hard. I lifted her easily – by Heavens, she weighed next to nothing – and carried her unconscious form back to the cells.


	10. Javert's Warning Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I change the rating to 'mature' because of this chapter? I'm not sure.

Tsuritsa’s body bowed under my own, arching as we moved together. I kissed her mouth, then her jaw, then her neck, then her breast. I could hear her panting, moaning like a painted lady, pressing against me. My hands were resting one on her hip, one in her hair. She was like velvet, pressing pleasure tighter and tighter around me until I could tell the walls would shatter and I would be openly, gloriously free. 

I nearly shattered apart as well.

When the act was over, we dressed in our nightclothes and lay together, but the nightgown Tsuritsa wore was one I knew had been Charani’s. When I questioned her, she just smiled. 

“You were too late.” And, her flesh began to rot and blacken, and the eyes that looked up at me melted from their sockets, tracking viscous tears down her face. The marks of consumption twisted her, her cheeks growing hollow and gaunt, her face sheened with the sweat of fever, body shaking with the chills, her chest wracking in a terrible cough that made blood trickle down her chin. 

A living corpse, Charani’s corpse, looked back at me. I was aware of being paralyzed, unmoving as the dead girl kissed my cheek. 

“You were too late, frère,” she said softly, patting my hand. “If you were not such a monster, you may have saved me. I have always been strong, but your insistence on leaving broke me, as did knowing what you had become, a police officer with a reputation for hearing no one’s story and showing no mercy to the poor. Did you really hate us that much, frère? Why? Why do you do this, show such cruelty? Do you not remember Kapo? ‘Do unto others as you would have done to yourself’. ‘Thou shalt not kill.’

How many men have you killed, Luminitso? How many women like me and Tsuritsa have died in your cells? Whose blood smears your hands? Mine does. Tsuritsa would have been here to nurse me back to health if you had not arrested her. 

You know she is no whore. She saved herself for you all these years. I tried to talk her into marrying someone who would love her, but she would not hear of it, even after Gunari….” She stopped, “She loves you.” 

I thought, disquieted, of a case only a month or so before I had come to Paris, of a whore I had nearly arrested, that Mayor Madeline had defended and taken to hospital. I had found out days later that he was the man I had hunted, the damned Jean Valjean, 24601, and had shrugged off the idea of the whore’s innocence. It was merely a case of a con protecting another con. 

I only now allowed myself to think that the whore may have been speaking the truth. 

Running my hand through my hair, I felt the hard, bony points of horns. The sight in the mirror across the room showed that two red horns had sprouted from either side of my skull. They suited me, the Sinner, the Fallen Light, Luminitso. It took a few seconds to realize that Charani was speaking to me again. “Ah, but I am too negative. You do love Tsuritsa; you lust over her in the same way a sailor would lust after a painted lady. You are not to hurt her; do not dare. She is delicate. Given you failed me, make sure you treat her well. She is now your only link to the past I know you enjoyed. I love you, Luminitso. Good bye.” Angel wings unfurled like sails from her shoulders in a feathered swoop, her skin turned pearly-white, and Charani was gone, faded away. 

I woke up with my face damp with tears, which I wiped away angrily. Damnation! I was furious at the idea of having to be merciful, even more so at the thought that Tsuritsa alone could have sparked these ridiculous feelings. My heart was stone, but still it trembled. 

“Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti. Beatae Mariae semper Virgini. Beato Michaeli archangel. Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis. 

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man, and of my virtue I am justly proud. Beata Maria,  
you know I'm so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd. 

Quia peccavi nimis. 

Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there, why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? I feel her, I see her… The sun caught in raven hair is blazing in me out of all control!

Verbo et opera…

Like fire, Hellfire, this fire in my skin, this burning desire is turning me to sin!

It's not my fault. Mea culpa. I'm not to blame. Mea culpa. It is the gypsy girl, the witch who sent this flame. It's not my fault if, in God's plan, He made the Devil so much stronger than a man!

Protect me, Maria. Don't let this siren cast her spell; don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone. Destroy this temptation; don’t let me taste the fires of hell, or else let her be mine and mine alone. 

Hellfire, Dark fire! 

Kyrie Eleison/ God have mercy on her/ Kyrie Eleison/ God have mercy on me/ Kyrie Eleison….”

It was Tsuritsa’s fault. I was not that weak. I would never be that weak. I did not cry and I did not grieve, and I certainly did not lust after street rats. I most certainly would not lust after Tsuritsa, even though she was my prisoner… even though I knew that I could do what some of the other officers did, chain her up and force her to make love to me… 

No, I would never force her. I was not that kind of man. I believed in firm punishment and retribution for wrong-doing, but to use sexual violence that way was the worse of sins. Rapists were the scum of all men, lesser beings than any other I arrested. I banished the disgustingly sinful thought from my mind, and got up to relight the fire and boil the kettle for a cup of tea. 

As soon as I moved, the thought returned. My thighs were sticky with the signs of lust, and I cursed, lashing out at the wall again, punching the rough wood until my knuckles bled and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. 

What the Devil was happening to me? This was not who I was, who I had worked so hard to be. Everything was supposed to be under my control, neat and ordered and logical. The Law of God and Man ruled, which left no room for petty thoughts and lustful fantasies. 

I could feel myself blushing like a pitiful, little schoolgirl as I went to the washroom and cleaned myself up. 

Tsuritsa’s arrival and our sudden… camaraderie had left me sufficiently confused. I could make absolutely not an ounce of sense of what had happened in the garden. It must be God’s way of punishing me for something, bringing back such a severe temptation to see what I would do. And, I had undoubtedly failed, caring for Tsuritsa as I did. She was a whore and a gamine. I shouldn’t care about her at all. She was no different to any other I arrested, and yet… And yet, I could feel myself weakening day by day. 

I wanted… to know her, as I had as a child, better than that. I wanted to know her in ways that no other had. I wanted to know her touch, how her lips would feel on mine, what it would be like to have her body pressed up hard against me. I thought of her kind eyes and gentle hands and long legs, and felt myself blushing again. Forget the tea; the reaction these thoughts caused in my body had me running to draw a bath without heating the water first. 

Being a Man of God left no room for this… confusion, knowing I did right by the Lord in arresting Tsuritsa, but knowing that following the letter of the Law meant both the loss of the woman I had loved and the death of my darling sœur. 

Men like me could never change. I had been born a thief; I would die a murderer and a man no better than the sailors who carried on with the painted ladies. I supposed Charani’s death was God’s retribution for my failings, what He had taken from me for failing his Law, a warning not to let my star fall.


	11. The Lieutenant

It was in the Officers’ Room that the Lieutenant broached the subject first. 

“So, Inspector,” he started, “that little gypsy whore we arrested the other day…” I fixed him with a glare that could freeze a hearth, but he continued, “Why was she out in the garden like some precious lark… with you, no less, when we were all under the impression that you were supposed to be beating her senseless at the same time? Unless, of course, you were beating her senseless in another way entirely…”

“I was not under the impression that the prisoner was in the gardens, unless you have caught fever, Lieutenant, nor was I under the impression that I was of the sort to bed whores,” I replied icily. I was not one to feel fear – ever – so I would not succumb to it now, despite the obvious attempt the other Officers were making at caging me like an animal. A caged animal fights to the death. Damned if I would go down without one. 

Damned if I would let that girl damage my reputation.

“I can assure you that I am quite well, Inspector. I just thought, given your history with the dame, that we could do with an assurance that you can still think with the head God put between your ears.” 

This time, I had no qualms about raising my hand, and punching the Lieutenant as hard as I could, knocking him to the floor. He would make none of those such references about Charani’s final resting place and the innocent moment of grieving that Tsuritsa and I had shared there. Stamping on his ankle, I snarled,

“Remember who you are talking to, Lieutenant. I am the Chief of this Office, and you answer to me, as it is obvious you have forgotten. I warned you that if you dared bring up my family or past again, you would no longer work here. Pack your things. Never set foot in this Office again, and if you do, I will happily arrest you. I do not, and will not, gallivant around with that gypsy whore, for she means nothing to me. 

If you saw anything in the garden, it will be a case of your own hyperactive imagination and your own bad eyesight. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear? And,” I whipped my head around, “this goes for all currently present here. Let that be your warning.”

I waited, haughty, until the Lieutenant had packed, and I saw the man limp out. Good.


	12. What is Forgiveness?

However, I was… concerned… for Tsuritsa, and to protect her, I made sure not to pay an ounce of attention to her for the next week, but for slipping medicine under her blanket every few nights. Even that was risky, yes, but seeing her skin return to its normal dark mocha from the grey tinge it had carried, and to hear her stop coughing, and to see her eat more and begin to gain weight again was worth it.

Finally, I readied myself for what the last week had allowed me to procrastinate. On a night where I knew the watch was as much as a drunkard as the inmates, in the middle of the night, I snuck to the cells and woke Tsuritsa. Pressing a hand over her mouth, I motioned for her to follow me as quietly as she could. I had never seen her look so scared, and she raked her fingernails at my hand, only calming even slightly when I was no longer touching her. 

This time, we went right past my office and I only stopped walking when we had reached my personal Quarters. 

“They know, or at least they heavily suspect, we are… friends,” I told her as soon as the door was shut behind us, “The officers that work here saw us in the garden, and automatically assumed that we were there for… uncouth reasons. I… I have called you here to say good bye. Even if they do not petition to send you to another gaol, I will not be allowed to meet with you, or take you to Charani’s grave. I am… Forgive me, Tsuritsa. It is out of my hands now that people suspect that I hold you in higher regard than I do the average prisoner.”

“Oh.” Tsuritsa’s shoulders slumped. “I did not mean to destroy your reputation.” 

“I did that with very little help from you,” I replied tersely, “Weak though that may be. I was certain I would not remember anything about my past ever again, but it turned out that I broke that promise.” 

“Luminitso, breaking a promise like that I think I can forgive you for.”

Shaking my head at just how easily Tsuritsa had managed to worm herself into my heart again, rueing the day that I arrested her, cursing this weakness that I could not control or beat into submission, I wound my arms around her and drew her close, warming her cold skin. I felt her head on my chest, over my heart again, though she trembled in my arms. 

“I miss her.” The voice was muffled by my thick coat. I leaned back, looking down at her and raising my eyebrow, not following the change of topic. Sensing my confusion, Tsuritsa clarified, “Charani. I miss Charani. I wish I had gotten a chance to say good bye to her.” 

I did not like the guilt that grabbed me by the innards. 

“I… I miss her, too, more than I thought I would. Though, I am afraid that I hold much of the fault for your grief,” I admitted, “I do not know if you could forgive me for that.” 

“Neither do I,” Tsuritsa whispered, “Though, you are different now, even than what you were a month ago. You are more like the person I knew as I child. I think Charani would forgive you.”

“I am not so sure.” 

“You are her brother. She loved you more than anything.” 

Oh, damn the guilt! Damn the shame. Damn the confusion. Damn the grief and the weakness! It was so much easier to be heartless. It meant never facing this pain.  
“Which would have made my betrayal all the more painful. I do not think I could forgive myself, if I were in Charani’s place… or in yours.” 

“I forgive you… for everything. I love you, Luminitso. How could I not?” 

“I am a cold man, Tsuritsa,” I warned her, “and it will do you no good to fall in love with me again. I am not the type for love, and it will not stand you in good stead.”  
“You silly fool,” Trusting, dark eyes were tear-filled when they looked up at me, “I never stopped loving you.”

I did not quite know how to reply to that. 

“I know you will never say that you love me, too,” she added with a small, sad smile, “but when we are parted, remember that. Please.” 

“I will.” I nodded, and I detested the way my throat closed and my eyes burned, “I… I don’t want to leave you again. I have already done that once.” 

“It is fine, Luminitso,” she smiled, “I forgive you… and I know Charani does, too.”

“I hope so.” 

I held her to my chest gently, before leading her back to the cell. This time, I readily accepted the pain as I turned my back on her again.


	13. Gypsy Whore

The next morning, I woke, dressed, and walked to the cells to relieve the night-watch… and to see how Tsuritsa was faring after our discussion the night previous. 

But, when I scanned the cells, I did not see her shock of black hair among the masses of inmates. 

“Lieutenant!” I snapped at the man who had replaced the useless, meddlesome bastard I had had before, “The gypsy whore! Where is she?”

“Why does it matter to you, Inspector?” he replied. Insolent child. He was as useless as my last Lieutenant. 

“Because, I need to know the whereabouts of every inmate in this gaol,” I snapped back. I hated his smug little smile. I hated it even more when he answered my question. 

“She’s been taken to the guillotine, Inspector,” he said, “She has been sentenced to death for seducing an Officer of the Law, just what the whore deserves. The officer in question will get his summons sometime in the next two days.” 

My hands curled into fists at my side, and white-hot anger boiled in my blood. It was everything I could do to keep calm, keep collected, not to allow my emotions to show. It I was any lesser man, I would have beaten him, and I could not say for certain I would have stopped before he died.

“When is she set to be executed?” I asked through gritted teeth. 

“This afternoon,” he replied. “Why do you care, Inspector? You are not the kind to offer trials yourself, and the evidence was heard by a fellow Officer of the Law. This was dealt with exactly the way you would have done it, following protocol to the letter…”

I marched out before he even finished his sentence. 

No… No! Words and images swirled in my head as I marched down to the guillotine in the centre of town, three streets away from the Police Office. Damned if I was going to sit by and do nothing while they prepared to execute Tsuritsa. 

On the way there, I realized with a pang that nearly made me stop in the middle of the road; I had to accept it. I, who had not truly cared for a person since leaving Beauchene, cared for the woman, the one I had not seen in fifteen years, my old friend, my childhood sweetheart. The thought of her dying, of losing her so soon after I had lost my sœur, made my hands clench and made it hard to swallow. Even though she was a link to my past, the past which I had prayed I would never remember again, the past that I had tried so hard to escape, I would not leave Tsuritsa to die. I would rather lose my title as Chief Inspector than watch that guillotine blade come down. 

That thought was… singularly disquieting. That girl would be the death of me yet. 

Because, after she had left me the night previous, I had finally made the connection about what my dream had been trying to tell me. I had wrongly arrested her. One could not be a whore if one had never had never laid with a man, so her charge of prostitution was baseless. She should be freed. I, of course, found no fault in being cruel to those who broke the law, but Tsuritsa had done nothing to deserve arrest, and certainly nothing to deserve death. 

Damnation!


	14. I Promise

At the guillotine’s small gaol, I talked my way past the guard after establishing that he would not just let Tsuritsa go, and knelt on the cobbled, stone floor outside one of the cells, from wherein I heard tears. 

“Tsuritsa?” I stretched a hand through the bars, to touch the tiny, shivering shape hunched under a blanket near the wall. I could not quite reach her, close, but not quite. She was in a fitful sleep, muttering and tossing and turning, silvery tears visible on her dirt-streaked face, black hair matted around her head. “Tsuritsa! Wake up. You are dreaming.”

Her eyes shot open like she had been shocked, and she gave a wail, recoiling from me before throwing herself at the bars, reaching for my hand. 

“Tsuritsa, you are safe, ma chérie.” I kissed her forehead through the bars. 

“Luminitso, they took me away from you,” she sobbed, “They told me you had dobbed me in for kissing you, called me a… a… a… Gypsy whore, and that you asked I be taken here because I… I… I seduced you. They said… said you did it to cleanse your soul of sin, being associated with a gypsy harlot like me….”  
Those bastards would here from me when I got back to the Office. 

“I did no such thing, I swear to you, Tsuritsa, I swear by the Stars. I came here as soon as they told me they had petitioned to send you away. They merely suspected….” I held her hand through the bars, and pressed my forehead to the cold metal. “I would never do that. You know that, Tsuritsa. You are no whore. I am here to repeal your charges, in fact. I arrested you wrongly,” I admitted with a small smile. She laughed lightly. “And, I will get you out of here. I promise.”


	15. Escape into the Mist

It was the kind of mist that made the world appear as a land of fantasy or myth, the kind where I could almost believe that the creatures of my Romani youth lay in wait around the corner, the kind that swallowed whole streets and exposed just a little at a time to a person, the kind where secrets hid just out of sight. 

I hated this kind of mist; it hid criminals and whores, and made patrol infinitely more dangerous. Though, that was precisely why I was thankful for it now, Tsuritsa’s bony hand locked in mine as we snuck through the streets we both knew so well, just on different sides of the Law. 

It hadn’t been hard to unlock the door with the master key on my belt, and sneak Tsuritsa through the back entrance of the gaol. It was a split-second decision, one that I had still not had time to think of the repercussions. I did not want to think of the repercussions. I had no doubt that there would be no going back now. I was harbouring a fugitive. 

Tsuritsa had shaped the blankets at the far back of the cell, so it would look like she was asleep if any guard walked past, but we still did not have enough time. I had to find a safe place to hide her. I couldn’t take her to my quarters; I lived in the Station. I had no friends or family that could keep her, and no safe-house would bend its rules for the hated Inspector. I knew the Law, and I knew how few convicts escaped its clutches. 

For the first time that I could remember, I was terrified, hiding in the shadows of the mist, trying to ignore the desperate ache in my chest, trying to ignore the instinct to protect Tsuritsa no matter what. 

I peered through the fog, trying to see the outlines of what lay ahead, alert for any threat. I hated the mist. 

It reminded me far too much of the mysterious woman who had been my mother, Cadence Javert, and the Romani caravan she had travelled with before I was born. This was the kind of weather she had loved, as close to the supernatural as she could mortally be. 

It had been important for Cadence to feel lost in time, I knew, because then she could live in a world of fantasy, where the miserable thief who had been my father – my father, mind, never my papa; I had never even met the man – was still there. Some of my earliest memories were of my mother vanishing for hours on end into the mist. I remembered crying because I thought that it would swallow her up and she would never come back. That was what Cadence had told me had happened to my father. 

Cadence had always spoken freely of the time before I was born. Even when her mind and body were failing her, even when Charani and I were hazy in her memory, she had remembered my father. Even seven years after he had left her, when she was dying in a gaol cell, she had called for him, the man named Baptiste Javert. 

I hated a great many people, but Baptiste Javert, my father only in the biological sense of the word, was at the top of the list. 

Scowling as I tugged my woollen greatcoat closer around myself, I trod on, with Tsuritsa a step behind me, peering through the thick fog for the slightest hint of movement. Officially, I was no longer on duty, but that did not mean I was not alert still. I was an Inspector, through and through. 

Well, I could no longer in good conscious say that, could I? Not with a fugitive hiding under my arm. 

It was a struggle between what was right and what was wrong. I was hiding a fugitive, but she was innocent and I knew what would happen to her if I handed her in. I couldn’t… I couldn’t do that to her. I could never hand her in. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her. 

“Tsuritsa?” I whispered as we snuck down a back street, and I felt her nod, her face pressed against my arm, “I think there is an abandoned house on Rue Plumet where you may be able to hide for now. I may be able to hide you there, but we will have to keep moving every few days. I will know where my Officers plan to search, so I can keep you out of their path. Also, I know of a con nearby who can make you fake documents in case the worst were to happen. You should pick a French name. ‘Tsuritsa’ will undoubtedly give you away.” 

“Thank you,” came the wisp of breath by my arm. 

“Don’t thank me yet, mon ami,” I snapped back, “Safety is still a long way off.”


	16. Tsuritsa's Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Discussions of rape and flashbacks

“Thérèse? I’m back.” It felt strange, to call her that. But, I remembered well the beatings I had had to face when I was young, because of my Romani blood, and I knew the false name was necessary. 

But, today, the third day of her ‘freedom’ after the break from the gaol, dancing footsteps and soft humming told me that… Thérèse was in the backroom, and I followed the sound of her singing, leaning against the doorframe to watch her. She had pushed the measly furniture against the walls, and now she danced gaily on the threadbare carpet, her every movement lithe and graceful. I remembered her first dancing lessons with Charani and Marion and Ana. Ah, but how much had changed in the years I had been gone. 

I stopped that thought. Yes, a lot had changed. Yes, I had left Beauchene thinking that I would never see Tsuritsa again. Yes, I had left because I never wanted to be a criminal. 

Yes, I had now gone against everything I thought I had stood for. Yes, I was hiding a convict from my men. Yes, it was likely that I would never set foot in the Station again, and that I may well be arrested, even killed, if we were caught. 

But, what was done was done. I did not regret my choices. I was a man of the Law, and the Law said that the innocent should not suffer. 

If only it was that simple.

“Thérèse?” I said, a little louder, and the woman jumped, giving a cry, a slim hand over her breast as she recoiled in shock. 

“You scared me, Lucian.” It had taken her awhile to become accustomed to calling me by that name. I still did not think she entirely was used to it, but she did try. 

“You need to be more careful about look-out. Next time, it might not be me,” I reprimanded her, taking her shoulders. She immediately dropped her gaze, hunching her shoulders, like every other time I had touched her. It troubled me. The girl I had known had never reacted like that. The girl I had known had never looked so scared. On a whim, I cupped her cheek softly to try and ease the fear from her, but Tsuritsa flinched, curling her arms around herself, not meeting my eyes. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“You do not have to be scared of me. I want to help you.” 

“I… I know… just….” Much to my dismay, Tsuritsa started crying, and she bit out a muffled, “I’m sorry,” before fleeing the room. I heard her bedroom door shut a moment later. 

I stood in the middle of the empty living room, staring at the doorway through which she had vanished, unsure of what to do. Tsuritsa was so different now. So much had changed. I hated the fact that I cared, but I had almost accepted the fact that I did. Her constant fear and distance concerned me far more that I wanted to admit. 

Sighing, I pulled the furniture back into the middle of the room, rearranging everything exactly has it had been. I would let Tsuritsa some time to collect herself, and then I would attempt to find out what was troubling her. In the meantime, this proved a fair distraction. 

Eventually, I ran out of things to tidy or organize, and I squared my shoulders with a sigh. There was no more procrastinating. Tsuritsa had still not come down from her room, and I could not deal with a fugitive as unpredictable as she was turning out to be. I needed to know what was going on inside her head, or else she could prove a danger. 

Knocking on her door, I called out her name softly. I could still hear her tears; I doubted I still could remember how to comfort her. I was concerned my brusque manner would do more harm than good. I hardly remembered who I had been before joining the Police Force. 

I did not want to remember. I had promised I never would, and although Tsuritsa’s appearance in my gaol had destroyed that, that still did not mean I was willing to remember everything. Charani was still a… sore spot, as was my mother. 

When there was still no answer, I pushed the door open, frowning at the sight of Tsuritsa sitting on the bed, curled in a tiny, trembling ball. I padded across the room and sat next to her, hesitantly reaching out to stroke her hair. 

“Don’t… no…! Don’t touch me!” She didn’t seem to be talking to me, but I still withdrew my hand like I had been burned, taken aback by the pain in her voice. Frowning, unsure, I tried to draw Tsuritsa’s shaking body into my embrace. She screamed again, and I held her as she struggled in my arms. Crying out, Tsuritsa shoved me away with all her strength, curling up at the foot of the bed, and wrapping her skinny arms around herself. She was trembling, her dark, frail body hunched like a cowering dog. 

“Tsuritsa...” 

“I can’t do this. Please, don’t make me do this!” Tsuritsa sobbed, “I’m sorry... Please... No...” She was talking to someone else, and I furrowed my brow again when she shrieked, fighting off an unseen attacker. Her eyes were wide open, so she could not be dreaming, but it looked like she had been possessed, taken to a place far from Rue Plumet. “Don’t... Please... stop... No... Gunari, NO!” 

Gunari. I should have known that monster would have something to do with this. 

“Tsuritsa! You’re safe. Nothing’s happening. No one is hurting you. You’re safe.” I didn’t dare risk touching her again, but I repeated that she was safe, over and over. 

It took a long time for her to wake from her trance, but, finally, Tsuritsa lay panting, curled on the mattress, sobbing into the blankets. 

“I’m sorry. Oh, Lumi, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry. You did not need to see that.” 

“I am afraid I am not quite sure what I saw.” I had never seen a night terror so severe that it gripped a person who was still awake. 

“It happens... sometimes. My memories come back to me with such force that I forget that they are only memories. Charani would usually be there, but now... that she is gone... I am sorry. I wish I could control it, but I cannot. I cannot even command my own mind.... I am so weak!” 

Again, she dissolved into tears, and I hesitantly held my arms out. Tsuritsa bit her lip, before curling up against my chest and sobbing into my shoulder. As gently as I could, I stroked her hair, resting my head on hers and murmuring soothingly, holding her close. I closed my eyes, listening as her breathing slowed and steadied, and Tsuritsa calmed in my arms. It took a long time before she finally settled completely, enough that I would risk holding her out at arms’ length and wiping her remaining tears away with the pad of my thumb. 

“You are not weak, Tsuritsa. You were never weak.” 

“You were not there, Lumi. You do not know what happened. I am weak.” 

Her words felt like a punch in the gut, and I let my hands drop from her shoulders, shame pressing a heavy, cold hand down on the back of my head. 

“I know I was not there.” I swallowed hard. “Would you fill me in on what happened? Only… only if it will not cause you harm. I just… I wish to help you, and I cannot do that without knowing. Though, if silence will help, then I do not need to know.” 

Tsuritsa drew a deep breath. 

“I want to tell you. Trust me, Luminitso, I do. Just… I do not know if I can. I am not strong enough.” 

There was silence for a few moments, a heavy, cold crushing void that crystalized like ice between us, before I ventured to crack it. 

“You wrote me a letter when you wished me to know of your thoughts last time, and could not tell me. Could you do the same thing now? Then, I would know, and you would not have to voice the thoughts that pain you. Would you be able to do that?” 

“Yes.” Tsuritsa’s voice was shaky, but definite, though her eyes were watering and she looked so frightened. “Give me a day?” 

“Of course.” 

“Luminitso?” I heard the tiny mezzo from my shoulder. “I am so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, mon ami.” 

“I wish that was true.”


	17. Writing

I woke late at night, unsure why I had woken. There was an ache in my bones that I could not ignore, and exhaustion tugged at my eyelids. I was not as young as I once was. 

Getting up and grabbing my robe, I padded down the hallway. There was the glow of a candle coming from the study, and I stood by the threshold, looking in through the door. 

Tsuritsa sat at my desk, looking very small perched on the very edge of the large chair. Ink-stained fingers smoothed the piece of parchment, her eyebrows furrowed, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in a comical look of concentration. Far less comically, she stopped to wipe away tears every few seconds, and I could see how upset she looked even from the door. 

Tsuritsa held the quill awkwardly, unused to the physical act of writing. It struck me hard. The Policeman who had saved me had tutored me in every art I would need for the Force, and I could read and write fluently by the time I was seventeen. It had been a long time since I had seen someone struggle to form letters. 

I once again sent a prayer to God, thanking Him for the chance I had been given. 

I thought of what horrors she was writing about, and I had a terrible feeling that the letter would be another cause of guilt I did not know how to control. 

Feeling my gaze soften as I looked at Tsuritsa bowed over the desk, I leaned against the doorframe and watched her. She was not quite as beautiful as she had been once – the years had been hard on her, and she was still far too frail – but there was still the glimmer in her eyes that I had fallen in love with so long ago. That spark of courage was not yet gone.

Though, I was no longer in love. I could not be. I would admit to… caring for Tsuritsa, but I could not love her. That was far too dangerous. Besides, I had spent so long completely alone – just alone, mind, not lonely – that I did not remember what love felt like. I had vague memories of contentment and happiness, but they were only fleeting feelings, nothing concrete, nothing that I could trust. 

It had been a long fifteen years. 

Slowly, I padded back to my room. Although I usually only slept with my door tightly shut, I left it slightly ajar now, so I could hear if terrors struck her the same way they had earlier. That had been… very concerning. I was not used to being so completely struck dumb, so helpless. I thoroughly disliked being helpless. 

Sleep did not come readily that night. My mind was too full of Tsuritsa’s wild, scared eyes, the scratch of the quill, the fear of guilt, and the echoes of screams. I watched the stars through my window long into the night, praying for Tsuritsa and myself both


	18. The Letter... Revised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: discussions of rape

When I awoke the next morrow after a singularly sleepless night, there was a letter resting on the pillow beside my head. Swallowing down my unease, I smoothed the stained parchment and placed it on my bedside table, before rising, dressing, and sweeping my long hair into its usual neat ribbon. Again, I was guilty of procrastination. Although part of me was desperate to read Tsuritsa’s letter, another part was viciously afraid of what I would find there.

 

When I finally opened the letter, parts of the ink were smudged with tears and huge sections of it were crossed out with thick, blotchy lines, obscuring the messy, childish scrawl.

 

The letter read:

_To my dear Luminitso,_

_My hesitance to tell you of what this letter encloses is not due to lack of trust. Please, know that. Yes, it is hard for me to trust, and there is still a part of me that expects you to cast me away, or disown me, or hurt me, but I know that that part is not logical. That is the same part that causes the waking terrors you saw yesterday._

_What I must tell you is what causes those terrors. I will phrase it as well as I can, but I do not know how to quite._

_~~Fifteen years ago, I found myself alone at the foot of the old oak tree – you remember, surely – the one by which we would play as children.~~ _

_~~Gunari approached me by the old oak tree, not long after you left, asking why I was so sad.~~ _

_~~I was attacked in a most terrible way.~~ _

_~~Gunari mocked me for your disappearance, told me that you had left because I was not good enough for you and you wished to get out of marrying me. Of course, I did not believe him; I knew you would have your reasons, even if I did not understand them.~~ _

_~~You know how I feared Gunari.~~ _

_~~Gunari finally found a way to make me pay.~~ _

_I was attacked, fifteen years ago. Gunari captured me under the old oak tree, and forced me to give in to him, as penance for slights that I had not been aware that I had done. After it was over, he laughed at me. He told me that it says in the Bible that if a man rapes a woman, she has to marry him, and cannot divorce him, because he had taken her. He said that it was better that I marry him, because no man would ever want to marry me. YOU would not want to marry me. To be so weak was something to be ashamed of; it was a dishonour that I could not protect myself from his advances. It was the work of the Devil that he could not control himself around my beauty._

_Kapo agreed with him, and Gunari told me that as soon as we were wed, he would be able to do as he wished with me, and I would not be able to stop him._

_I nearly killed myself that night. I could think of no other escape, and Hell was a better choice than what I would face at his hand. It was Charani who told me to follow you. I told her I would only leave if she came with me, because I knew that Gunari would go after her if I was not there._

_So, we ran away to Paris, to escape what had happened. But, try as I might, I could not find you, until rumours of an Inspector Javert came to our part of the city not that long ago. I did not believe the rumours, the ones that spoke of your cruelty and harshness. That was not the man I knew. I was so proud of you. You had made something of yourself, something greater than any other Roma could._

_The only person who knows exactly what happened to me that night is Charani, and it is a secret that she took to her grave._

_You understand why I was too frightened to tell you, when you thought me a whore. I understand why you will send me away after this._

_I am so sorry. I failed you. As soon as I no longer had you there, I betrayed the trust you had given me, and lost the strength you told me I had. I allowed myself to betray you, because I was too weak to keep him away from me._

_I will never be pure. I will never be a good wife. Because of that, I should have told you before what had happened to me, but I was so pleased to see you, and so taken aback by how you had changed. I was too scared of being sent away again. I was too scared of what would happen to me in gaol if you knew me as a weak, little harlot. I was too scared of what you would think of me. You had already labelled me a whore. I did not want to prove you right._

_Now, you know what I did. I am so, so sorry, Luminitso._

_Will you be insulted now, if I say I still love you?_

_Tsuritsa_

 

Once again, I was left standing, dumb, clutching the letter. I could hardly breathe, and it took me a long time to realize that tears ran freely down my face. For the first time that I could remember, I was not ashamed of them, and I made no move to wipe them away.

 

Why had I not taken Charani and Tsuritsa with me? Why had I not protected them?

 

I had not wanted any ties to my past.

 

I had thought that they would be better off without me.

 

I had not known if I would succeed, and wanted them somewhere safe if anything happened to me. I had thought that Kapo would protect them, that they would be safe.

 

How was I to know that they would be in more danger left in Beauchene than they ever could have been with me?

 

My sorrow turned quickly, violently, to anger, at Gunari, at myself, and I lashed out at the wall again, before reining in my temper as quickly as I could. I had to find Tsuritsa. I could not leave her thinking that I had abandoned her.

 

But… I did not know what to say. I did not know how to handle the thought of her tears and grief. What could I do to heal her wounds?

 

As a start, I took a deep, steadying breath, clenching and unclenching my hands until I was collected enough to retain my calm, pushing my fury back into a box in my mind.

 

As quickly as I could, I left my room and walked down the hall, searching for Tsuritsa, unsure of what I would find.


	19. Making Amends

She was sitting by the door, crying, with a bag full of her measly possessions by her side.

 

“Tsuritsa?” I ventured, sitting beside her on the floor. She jumped, glanced guiltily at me, and then turned her head away. I was hesitant to touch her, after what she had disclosed to me, so I just sat by her side in silence, waiting for her to speak.

 

It took a long time.

 

“So… you know now.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you angry?”

 

“Not with you.”

 

“I am so, so sorry, Luminitso.”

 

“There is no reason for you to be sorry,” I told her firmly, “Gunari is the one at fault here, not you. He is the one I am angry at.”

 

“But…”

 

I hushed her, before closing my eyes, trying to find a way to articulate what I wished to tell her. I sent a brief prayer to the Stars, asking for guidance, trying to clear my mind, ignore the squirm of unease I felt at having to actually… speak. I was not used to… conversations. I barked orders. I threatened criminals. I read arrest rites. I did not converse.

 

“You told me, the night I talked to you back at the gaol, that you loved me. You told me that, even though you knew I was likely not accept it. Remember?” Tsuritsa nodded, so I continued, “I will do something similar now. Even though I know you will not believe me, I am going to tell you that I do not blame you for anything that happened to you, because that is what I believe.”

 

Tsuritsa looked up at me, disbelief and fear in her eyes. She had honestly thought I would cast her away. I blinked back the tears I felt threatening to drown me; I was not going to show such weakness, not now, not in front of her. Tsuritsa needed me to be strong for her right now.

 

“But… Lumi, after what Gunari said….”

 

“You would take the word of that monster over my word?” I laughed bitterly, “Tsuritsa, I would think you knew me better than that, even after all these years. You think I would place blame on you if a man were to attack you? You think I would place blame on you for another’s actions? I…” My tongue tripped over the words ‘I love you’, and I mentally scolded myself for the thought. That could not be true; it had just come to mind as a way of soothing her, because I knew it was what she wanted to hear. “You are… special… special to me. I do not think any less of you.”

 

It was surprisingly painful to admit it even that. The words rolled around my mouth like sharp stones, spat out, my tone too formal, too harsh. I berated myself for my brusque manner.

 

Tsuritsa said not a word, just leaned her head on my shoulder, and I let her cry. That was all I could do now, just let her cry, my arm around the narrow, shaking shoulders.

 

Eventually, when my joints were starting to protest being left on the floor for so long, I looked down to see how she was faring, and I found her asleep, tucked under my arm. Smiling sadly, I lifted the minute weight and carried her to her room, tucking her into bed and writing her my own letter, so she did not panic when she woke. I did not want to leave her alone, but I had not eaten breakfast, it was already nearly midmorning, and the pantry was nearly barren.

 

_Dear Tsuritsa,_

_You fell asleep and I did not want to wake you. Forgive me for leaving you alone after our discussion, but I have gone to the market for groceries, and I will be back shortly. If you are hungry, there is some cheese in the cupboard, but I will make lunch upon my return._

_Sleep well, mon ami._

_Luminitso_

 

With that, I grabbed my greatcoat and left the house, my mind mulling painfully over what I had learned.

 


	20. Warning

I should not have left the safety of the Rue Plumet house.


	21. "I Don't Want to be Afraid"

Upon my return, I found Tsuritsa by the window, looking out at the street. She gave me a small smile, and ran to hug me as soon as I walked through the door. I dropped the bags from the market, and caught the fleet figure, spinning her around above my head in a highly uncharacteristic display of affection. Her fluting laugh made me smile. 

I could not tell anyone why my response had been to do that; it just felt right to do. 

As soon as I had returned Tsuritsa to her feet, I was struck by just how… domestic the scene was. I did not know what I thought about that. 

“What did you get at the market? I am a little hungry now.” Tsuritsa picked up one of the bags for me, staggering under the weight of a block of cheese, a head of lettuce, and a bag of potatoes. God’s joke; she had picked up the heaviest bag. 

“I thought you might be. There’s a baguette, some cheese and cold meats, and fresh fruit for lunch.” I remembered the days on the streets when I had had nearly nothing to eat, and by the look of Tsuritsa’s bone-thin arms and legs, that had been the case for her as well. I knew that buying so much food was not intelligent – I was no longer earning a wage as an Officer, and we had to save what money we had – but it was worth it, just this once, to see Tsuritsa’s face light up. I knew that she had likely never seen so much food in one place, and if she had, it would have been stolen by the Roma in Beauchene, and that was fifteen years ago. 

As we ate lunch, we finally had a chance to talk, in a way we had not since I had left Beauchene. It was… fun. I liked it. I realised then that I had been truly lonely, not just alone, but lonely, all these years away from my family. I had missed having Tsuritsa around. 

I missed Charani with an ache that I feared would never fade. 

I told Tsuritsa all that had happened to me since I had left, about the Police Officer who had chased off the hooligans who had beaten me to an inch of my life. I told her about how he had taken me under his wing, unofficially adopted me, made sure I was educated, so I could always make a living. I told her about how he had gotten me into the Police Academy, and I had never looked back. 

In turn, Tsuritsa told me about life in Paris with Charani, about the strange, funny people she had met on the streets, how poverty brought out the best and worst in people. I found myself paying close attention to her stories of the streets, not as an Officer, but as a human. It was the first time I had allowed myself to see that those people were no different to me. 

It was a singularly disarming thought. 

I supposed that, with all that had happened, I could no longer call myself an Officer. I was no longer Inspector Javert, but merely Monsieur. 

If that meant spending my days like this, I was not opposed to it. 

After we had cleaned up the dishes from lunch and packed the food in the pantry, Tsuritsa tugged on my sleeve, and I turned to look down at her. Hesitantly, shifting her weight from foot to foot, she lifted her mouth to mine, and I startled like a skittish colt at the feeling of her kiss, immediately taking a step back. 

“Tsuritsa?” I blinked. “What…?” 

“I… I’ve been so scared of… being in love. I’ve been so scared of my memories. I’ve missed you, every single day for fifteen years. Now… you’re here again, not just in body, but in soul. You are the man I knew you to be so long ago, and that is the person I had thought I had lost forever. I want… I’m scared, but…. Please….” 

“What are you saying, mon ami?” 

“I’m saying… I want… Oh, I do not even know anymore! I want you. I want this,” she motioned vaguely to the room around us, looking up at me with troubled eyes, “I do not know what else to say.”

“But… what about Gunari? What about…” 

Tsuritsa trembled, hugging her arms around herself, before meeting my eyes again. When she spoke, I could tell it took every ounce of her strength. 

“I have been scared of him for my entire life. I have been scared of it happening again. But… I have always, since far before Gunari, wanted… this… with you. I am not going to let him ruin that for me, not now, when I have you back. I want to… I want to try. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I love you. And… he never… kissed me. I think that is safe.” 

“Tsuritsa…” 

“Please.” 

She cut me off with a kiss, and I tried to gather the willpower to pull away, but when I tried – half-heartedly – Tsuritsa cupped my face in bony hands, running her fingers through my hair, stroking the back of my neck. I could feel my resolve melting in the flushed heat of the body pressed up against my chest, and I tentatively wound my arms around her waist. 

Bliss… 

Pulling my mouth from hers after a long time, drawing in a ragged breath, I leaned my cheek on the crown of her head, breathing in the earthy scent of her hair, holding her tight. 

“Tsuritsa…” 

“Luminitso.” 

We stood together in the kitchen, occasionally sharing sweet kisses, revelling in this moment. Still in the corner of my mind, a voice screamed that I should not be doing this, that it was wrong, but I hushed it. How could something wrong feel this right?


	22. The Lieutenant's Revenge (or How Everything Went to Hell in a Handbasket)

I should have known that bliss never lasts.

The Officers on the Force knew me, and they had seen me in the market. They had trailed me home, and I had been too full of my own miserable thoughts to notice. 

My Lieutenant and the men who had worked for me waited until that night before breaking into the house. They grabbed Tsuritsa from where she slept by my side, and I woke to the sound of her screaming, fighting like a wildcat in the Lieutenant’s harsh grip. Suddenly, I was up, lunging at him, roaring at him, “let her go, you bastard! Don’t you lay a hand on her!” But, I had hardly made it a metre before three other Officers were grabbing my arms, and I struggled and yelled, unable to fight free.

“Stand down, Inspector,” the Lieutenant smirked, “You are not in charge of this arrest. We’ve been told to find the Gypsy whore and the Officer she has cast her wicked spells on. Both of them have an arrest order and a court summons. Though, Inspector, if you just say that the whore has brainwashed you, then the Judge may be lenient on you….” 

“If you call her a whore again, I will see to it that you burn in Hell!” 

“Are you going to take me there yourself?” the Lieutenant laughed, “I would not be surprised if the rumours are true, and I have just arrested a Demon.” 

I gritted my teeth, trying to throw the other Officers off me. Tsuritsa was still screaming, and every ounce of me was desperate to get to her, to soothe her, to protect her. 

“Tsuritsa! No! Let her go, please! She’s innocent! Tsuritsa!!!” 

I could do nothing. Helplessly, I watched them take Tsuritsa away, before they marched me out, throwing me in the back of a carriage and taking me back to the gaol.

“TSURITSA!”


	23. I Love You

For all my promises, I could do nothing. For all my anger, the rules would not change. For all my time hunting those that escaped the Police, I could not escape them, and the desperate attempt to break her out of gaol failed. After that, they forbid me from seeing Tsuritsa under pain of imprisonment for life. I could not win her freedom through means honest or dishonest, as hard as I had tried.

I only had time to whisper, “I love you”, in her ear before they took me away again.


	24. The Guillotine

I was in the crowd that gathered below the guillotine, but I was the only one praying for a miracle. I saw two guards haul her up to the Executioner’s block. Two guards? What was the point? My little Tsuritsa could not fight one man, much less two. I heard her crying, begging for her life, and anger and helplessness coursed through my veins. This was all my fault, all my fault, all my fault, the words pulsed a heartbeat in my temples. 

“I plead my belly, please, please, you cannot kill me…!” 

“Listen ta this,” I heard one guard say to the other, “The whore pleads her belly. Wonder if it’s the child of that copper who’s got it coming to him. Don’ think she’ll know tha’ yet, tho, unless she’s been servicing him for some time. Lucky bleedin’ copper.” 

His friend laughed, and cuffed her over the head. I fought the urge to slug him. I was helpless do anything for her now, and being incarcerated for life meant a careful eye would be kept to make sure I did not join her in death, did not take my own life once hers was stolen. 

“No one cares for your gypsy bastard,” the guard snapped at Tsuritsa, “The world is better off two gypsies fewer, if you ask me.” 

And, they had called me a monster. I shook my head. How dare they treat her with such contempt? How dare they laugh at her tears and mock her life? How dare they take the one woman I had ever cared about from me, so soon after my sœur’s death?

How dare they shove her against the bascule with such force?

As she laid her head on the guillotine’s lunette, I saw Tsuritsa’s eyes scan the crowd, and her gaze met mine. So entranced, I was, with sending her the most comforting look I could, with being there now though I had failed her, that I did not see the Executioner pull the déclic. I did not see the mouton start to fall along the path of the uprights. 

I only saw the moment she died.


	25. Aftermath

Before my knees could give way, I turned and ran, pushing through the crowd until I was free of the press of bodies and the sound of cheers, until I was miles away from the guards that now loaded Tsuritsa’s body into a basket, though the sight would not leave me. I found myself outside the Police Office, and I fled to my room, locking the door behind me before any of the others could ask their stupid questions. I could feel the tears starting to burn the backs of my eyes like Hellfire. I would not show weakness…

Before befriending Tsuritsa again, I had not cried in years, but I had not forgotten how, and I could not help but cry now. I felt physical pain, a burning ache that reminded me of the time a convict had shoved a knife between my ribs. I carried a deep scar to this day; I wondered if this pain would leave a similar mark.

What Tsuritsa had said about pleading her belly surely was untrue. Could a kiss… cause that? I was loath to admit I did not know. If so, sure she would not know the mere day later. Though, what did I know of women? It was her body. For all I knew, it spoke to her and she knew as I did not, so indeed I had witnessed also the death of my unborn child.

No, this could not happen. I must again be dreaming. I hadn’t just lost her. She wasn’t dead. Come to think of it, neither was Charani, because she could not be. She just could not. She was too strong and Tsuritsa was too pure and I was not a family man… I had no children. So, none of them could not have died. They just could not have. I could not think about the moment that… the moment that…. 

I was the last living person she ever laid eyes on. 

I thought that, and I curled up and cried like a child.


	26. Javert's Arrest

They came for me that afternoon, as soon as proceedings at the guillotine were completed. The Lieutenant hauled me up by the arm, sneering at my swollen, red eyes and the tearstains that still tracked silvery war paint down my face and spiked my eyelashes into spears. 

“C’mon, Inspector, you got a date with the Judge and the Chief.” 

“Let go of me, you murderous beast!” I shoved him, snarling, mad with grief and rage. The Lieutenant just laughed, nodding to his men – people I had worked with, people under my command – who grabbed me, restraining my arms and cuffing my hands behind my back. 

I had never thought that this would be what became of me, and for the first time since escaping with Tsuritsa, I felt shame. My job was to uphold the Law, and I had run from it, as was expected from the son of a thief and a whore. I had spent my entire life striving for a perfection above mortal instincts, and all of that had failed as soon as I felt the first pang of compassion. 

Conflicted and confused, I let the Officers lead me out, though I never once bowed my head. For all that had happened, I was still too proud for that.


	27. The Judge's Decree

The Judge forced me to say that my actions had been the result of Witchcraft, and that the Gypsy whore had placed a spell on me that robbed my senses. He forced me to cast all blame on her, and if I did not, I would be gaoled for life. My charges were: impeding an arrest, resisting arrest, assault of an Officer, and hiding a suspect.   
Tsuritsa had placed a spell on me, and it had robbed my senses – that much was true – but it was far from Witchcraft. 

I had no choice. I could not go to the galleys. I knew what would become of me there. If the convicts found the merciless Inspector Javert had been arrested, my life would not be worth living, but killing me and sending me to Tsuritsa and Charani would be too easy an end. They would make me suffer. 

Part of me believed that that would be a fitting fate. Who was I to allow everything to go back to normal without a fight after what my esteemed colleagues had done? 

But, the Chief would not hear of it. Citing the exemplary record I had held before Tsuritsa’s arrest, he stated that he needed me back on the Force, and that was that. He said he was not surprised that the Gypsy’s spells could have affected me so much, when I worked so hard and took so little rest. He gave me three days’ leave under observation to rest and compose myself, and then I would return to work.


	28. The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions

Slowly, I climbed over the parapet, looking down at the raging water below me. I imagined falling, imagined the cold waves piercing me through like daggers. 

Lucian. Luminitso. Luminitso Javert.

Luminitso: the Romani form of Lucifer, Latin, meaning “the Bringer of Light”, who had, in the end, fallen in darkness. He was the first of the Fallen Angels, the first of those that had succumbed to evil and opposed the will of God. 

And, as his namesake, as the son of a thief and a whore, I could do nothing but follow in his footsteps. 

How badly I wanted to let go, how badly I wanted to fall into the icy water and be swallowed by the force of my darkness, by the force of my sin. I wished wildly that my paying the final, Earthly and Immortal price would bring Tsuritsa back, that God would somehow trade her pure soul for my own tainted one. 

I looked up at the night sky, so serene above me, as it always was. I prayed, wishing frantically to God, to Kali Sara, to the Stars, to anyone that would listen, hardly able to keep my thoughts from swirling out of control, into a mass of darkness that I could not order. I felt the knife-blade of Tsuritsa’s death in my chest, as real to me as a physical wound.

“There, out in the darkness, a lost soul is running, fallen from God, yet so full of grace. God be my witness: I never shall yield till we meet in the end, till we meet face to face. She knows her way through the night; I know the way through the House of the Lord. Those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward. And, as we fall as Lucifer fell, the flames, the sword!

Stars, in your multitudes, scarce to be counted, filling the darkness with order and light. You are the sentinels, silent and sure, keeping watch in the night, keeping watch in the night. You know your place in the sky. You hold your course and your aim, and each in your season returns and returns, and is always the same. And, if you fall, as Lucifer fell, you fall in flames!

So it must be, for so it is written on the doorway to Paradise, that those who falter and those who fall must pay the price! 

Lord let me find her that I may see her delivered from harm. I will never rest till then, this I swear. This I swear by the Stars!”

If I let go... I would wake in Hell, in the Wood of the Suicides; I knew that. I would fight my way out, would travel as Dante did through the tunnels of the Underworld until I came to... where? Purgatory, for the child unbaptized? Would she be merely in Limbo? Should I check the sixth Circle, the Flaming Tombs of the Heretics, or, more likely, the seventh, for Blasphemers? 

Oh, how I wanted to let go. 

Broken promises. Oh, how-many broken promises fell like fiery rain on my face as I looked at the Stars. “I will not see you die, too.” “I can take you to Charani’s grave when you wish.” “I do not wish to harm you.” “You are safe.” “I will protect you.” “I will get your out of here.” 

All promises I could not keep. 

The road to Hell is paved in good intentions.

But, then, I heard a guffaw of laughter. My Lieutenant, out for a stroll with his woman! Damned if I would let him see me fall. Damned if I would let him chase me over a parapet, and allow him the satisfaction of knowing he had caught Inspector Javert in the temptation of sin yet again. So, I climbed quickly back over the parapet and vanished into the darkness of the night.


	29. Fallen Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: suicide

Many years later, Fate would see me back at that same spot, despondent over the loss of the one convict who had ever escaped me, despondent over his rise to the light in the face of my own fall from Grace. He had managed to evade the Police for over 30 years, and I had not even managed to free one prisoner. He, too, was an innocent man, like the woman I had loved was also innocent, so why did he get to live his life in peace while Tsuritsa burned? Who was I to take his life when he had spared mine, when he had his own family to care for and a daughter who would mourn? 

I had not thought of Tsuritsa or Charani in years, actually. The memories of them, I had buried again with the ones of my childhood. Their deaths were my fault, God’s warning for my sin, for daring to show mercy or compassion or weakness when I never had before and had not since. 

The closest I had come to thinking of Tsuritsa was upon the first death on the barricade, the death of the gamine, Éponine, soon after I had been captured. She had been so much like my childhood sweetheart, with her long, black hair and haunted, brown eyes and frail build. 

I had thought she was a ghost, until she had died in that damned boy’s arms. 

This time, hanging on the edge of the parapet, I let go. 

As my heavy coat dragged to the bottom, nearer and nearer to the riptide strong enough to break boats, as the water filled my lungs and the cold fogged my mind, I thought I heard a voice, Tsuritsa’s voice, singing to me. 

“Lord in Heaven, look down on him in Mercy. Forgive him of his trespasses and take him to Your glory...”


	30. Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: discussions of rape and suicide

But, there is no Mercy for the wicked, no glory for the sinners. When I awoke from the darkness, I found myself not in the seventh Circle of Hell, but the ninth, the Tundra of the Traitors, buffeted by the icy winds of my namesake’s rage, waist-deep in the freezing lake, frozen in place. When I cried, my tears chilled on my cheeks in an instant, causing me yet more pain. 

For all my piety and all the Order I had tried to keep in life, I was a sinner. The thought dragged me as deep in despair as I had been deep in the Seine. 

Waiting for me was Gunari, the Kapo’s Son. Tsuritsa had guessed right. He was a Nephilim, his wings – once a pure white – now grey with hate, tattered and torn, feathers falling to the icy ground. He came to me, laughing at my plight. 

“Why, if it isn’t my old friend.... If it isn’t the Traitor, Luminitso Javert! I knew you were trouble, you and your obstinate sister both. Oh, yes, sweet baby Luminitso, Cadence’s boy, who would never be anything but gentle and fair. Tsuritsa thought you walked on water, she did. But, when you left Beauchene, when you hurt our Kapo.... I knew you were trouble, but no one listens to me, do they?” 

“I did not intend to hurt anyone. What was done is done.” 

“Yeah, and you still got Tsuritsa in the end. Sometimes, life just isn’t fair. What is a Nephilim to do?” Then, he smiled, a slow, lazy grin that crawled across his face like disease. “Though, at least I got the last laugh... or the first laugh.” 

“What are you talking about?” I hissed, aware of his penchant for lies and deceit. 

“You didn’t take her maidenhead, you half-Romani pond scum. I did, under the old Oak Tree, three days after you left.” 

“I am aware.” My head snapped up, and I spoke through gritted teeth. “Tsuritsa hated you.” 

“She hated me a lot more afterwards.” Gunari laughed. The monster actually had the audacity to laugh. 

I was silent for a moment, anger roiling like Hellfire in the pit of my belly. 

“You are the truest form of evil I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. You know nothing of hatred, Gunari, for I saw what your attack did to her, even fifteen years later, and if you could laugh at such pain, there is not a word that describes the kind of monster you are.” My voice was deathly quiet. 

“There is, you know, Javert. It’s called Nephilim! As it is, what do you care about the little whore? You were the one who left her to me.” 

At once, shame fed my anger in a fiery burst, and I lunged at him, but the ice stopped all movement. Helpless and furious, I tore at the Nephilim as he stood just out of my way, before placing a booted foot on my chest and pushing back, bending me backwards over the ice. I felt the tendons in my back start to crack, and he pressed down harder, harder, reveling in my agony as he must have reveled in Tsuritsa’s. I screamed as the tendons finally tore, snapping my body in half as easily as one would break a winter branch. 

But, this was Hell. As soon as Gunari stepped off my chest, my body began to reknit – painfully – so that he could do it again if he so desired. 

“Is the ever-so-religious Lucian Javert upset that I raped a woman?” Gunari questioned, “My dear Inspector, do you read your Bible?”

“Of course.”

“Then, recite to me Deuteronomy 22:28-29, please.”

My spine stiffened. 

“Monster.”

“Do it, Luminitso, or I break your back again. You cannot even try to run away from me like Tsuritsa did.”

In a whisper, I started, “If a man happens to meet a virgin who is not pledged to be married and rapes her and they are discovered, he shall pay her father fifty shekels of silver. He must marry the young woman, for he has violated her. He can never divorce her as long as he lives.”

“So, there you have it, Javi. No wonder you are in Hell; you kissed a woman that never belonged to you. Well done, my friend, well done.” 

In a single motion, he placed his hand on my temples, and I was given the full memory of his conquest, the gloating memory he still kept of pinning her to the trunk of the oak tree, biting bruises into her skin that bled crimson and black, reveling in her screams as he.... 

With that, Gunari vanished in a blast of smoke and Hellfire, a searing blast of flame washing over my skin. Again, my skin reknit, healing the burns, but I could still feel the pain of them. 

Or, maybe it was merely the pain of my grief.


	31. The Hope of Redemption

There is no time in Hell, but I was sure I stayed in that place for eternity. I have no inkling of how long it would have been between when I died and the moment the Angel Tsuritsa came to visit me.

In the dark, grey world that was my Afterlife, it started with a beam of light, then a faint figure stepping through the glare, the outline of a woman’s body before me, robed in angel wings, crowned in a halo. The light blinded me, and I could not see her face, but I could sense her presence and our connection. I would have thought, after so much time, after everything that had happened, after how hard I had tried to forget her, that the connection would be gone. 

“Tsuritsa, ma chérie...” 

“Luminitso.” I could hear the smile in her sweet, mezzo voice, “My poor Luminitso....” I felt the light brush my hair, and she knelt by my head. The light that surrounded her was blinding, but I would happily lose my sight for her. I would lose everything, if I could just have her, if I could make up for all the wrong I had done. “I have tried to free you, and like Dante’s wife, I can. You are to be mine, Luminitso, in Heaven. Charani is there, and our mother, and Ana, and Marion, and.... Oh, it is lovely!”

All I had thought about since Gunari’s appearance had been my Tsuritsa, the victim, and how strong she was.... All I thought about was my brave Tsuritsa, thinking herself a whore, a ‘fact’ restated with her arrest and execution.... Hell had haunted my Eternal sleep with nightmares of her rape, of playing the memory Gunari had given me, seeing him take her again and again, and being unable to stop him, to protect her, because not once in my life had I managed to truly protect any of the people I loved, and for that I deserved my Hell. 

I did not expect Tsuritsa, in all her endless compassion, to return for me. I looked up at the infinite darkness above me, and for the first time, I saw the hope of redemption in the light of her soul. 

“Come with me, where chains will never bind you...” 

I walked toward the light that floated so close, hardly registering that I was free. 

“All your pain, at last, at last behind you....” Tsuritsa held out her hand, and I reached out to weave my fingers with hers. 

“Take my hand, and I’ll lead you to salvation. Take my love, for love is everlasting. And, remember, the truth that once was spoken...” 

The light encompassed me, and I felt the sensation of rising, floating, with Tsuritsa’s small arms around my midriff, my head buried in the sweet silk of her dark hair, joining my voice with hers as she sung. 

“To love another person is to see the face of God....”


End file.
